


let the tide sweep us away

by sambumblebee



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, I ran with it, M/M, fic week, kind of, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 01:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20498804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sambumblebee/pseuds/sambumblebee
Summary: for good omens fic week 2019! hope you enjoy <3 it is very unedited but hey i did something!





	let the tide sweep us away

The winter air bit into his skin, but he ignored it as always, pretending it did not faze him. The stars above tugged at him, mockingly, and Crowley clenched his teeth, pushing through the whistling wind until he found the right alley and darted in. He found a doorway and ducked inside. After he caught his breath, he opened the door and found himself in a well-decorated but tiny lobby with a desk and an attendant who looked like he could have been a child’s preconceived idea of a butler.

“Good evening, sir. How may I help you?”

Crowley smiled thinly, taking off his coat and tucking it under his arm. “I’m here for the ah. The event at this club tonight. What is it, exactly? A dance?”

“A couple’s dance, yes. Where is your partner?”

“My what?”

The man behind the desk looked at Crowley over his round wire-frame glasses disapprovingly. “Your partner, sir. You need to be here with a partner. That is the event. It’s a dance for couples, not bachelors.”

Before Crowley could say anything, the door opened again, and in tumbled Aziraphale, wearing a ridiculous hat with ear flaps, his nose bright pink from the frigid air. His eyes went wide when he saw Crowley.

“Good evening, sir,” said the manager, dryly. “Do you have a partner for the event, or were you misguided like this young gentleman?”

“Oh. Ah. Quite right. This young gentleman will be my partner, yes. If that’s alright.” Aziraphale beamed at Crowley, who was suddenly very glad that his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. The angel removed his coat and looped his arm around Crowley’s, eyes twinkling. A young man emerged from a side door to take their coats after Aziraphale procured two tickets from a pocket to hand to the receptionist, who still looked convincingly like a caricature of a butler.

“So,” said Aziraphale as they ascended the stairs, their arm still distractingly linked, “What are you doing here, Crowley?”

“Oh, you know, just a temptation, that’s all. Figured this was as good a place as any. What about you?” Keeping his voice level took far more effort than he expected it to. What on earth was Aziraphale playing at?

“I wanted to see what this was like. It seemed rather fun!”

“Fun?”  
“Yes, Crowley, I do believe you’ve heard of the concept.”

“Ha-ha. I don’t know that I’d call dancing in a room full of humans fun.”

“Well, you never know until you’ve tried, my dear.”

Crowley didn’t know if he wanted to hit Aziraphale or kiss him for that remark. He decided on keeping his mouth shut as they walked through the ornate doors at the top of the stairs.

The room was filled with couples, as promised, dressed in vests and blazers and shined shoes, colorful bowties and flashy socks, slicked back hair and glittering eyes. Something Crowley noticed instantly, though, was the pairings – instead what he would have expected in a traditional ballroom, the men danced with men and the women with women, and some people he saw didn’t look or dress like any men or women he’d ever seen. Something about the scene made him feel uncomfortably warm, a fluttering in his heart that no demon should ever experience. He eyed Aziraphale, but the angel stood enraptured by the twirling dancers and delighted musicians, the waiters performing a dance of their own with cocktails and hors d’oevres balanced delicately on silver trays, and couples lounging in chaises along the sides of the room sipping on wine and nibbling at sweets. 

“So,” Aziraphale says, abruptly turning back to Crowley, a rather devilish look on his face. “Who are you tempting tonight?”

“Ngk. Ah. I don’t think... I think I’ll skip the tempting tonight.”

Aziraphale adopted a comically shocked expression, before shifting into a smug smile and saying, “Well then, I suppose I’ll have to take over. May I tempt you to a dance?”

Crowley’s legs might well have been turned back into the body of a snake. His heart felt as though it might leap out of his chest and do the dancing for him. When Aziraphale put out his hand, he took it, and then they joined the fray, this strange whirling sea of petticoats and grins, hands on waists, lips on cheeks, heels tapping on a shining floor. He was at once immensely grateful that Aziraphale had taken the lead, because he was not sure his body would obey him if he had to do anything other than follow the angel’s movements. He could not stop staring at Aziraphale’s joyful expression, the way his eyes crinkled, and his lips pressed together, occasionally parting to form a childlike smile, tongue poking between teeth. Aziraphale’s hand pressed into the small of his back as they spun and spun and spun, dizzying in every possible way.

When the music lulled, the two of them were in the eye of the storm. As other couples slowed down and their hands found their homes in those of their partners, Aziraphale and Crowley were left at the center, still and silent, frozen, caught in a snapshot of an impossible moment.  
“Are you sure,” Aziraphale breathed, his voice low, “that you haven’t been doing any tempting tonight?”

“I thought you’d taken over for me, angel,” Crowley said with bated breath.

“Well. It seems we’ve been competing for the same job, then.” And with that, Aziraphale pulled Crowley closer to him and kissed him gently. All Crowley could do was melt into his touch, not quite willing to believe he had not fallen into some sort of dream or fantasy, until they parted once more, and he saw the warmth on Aziraphale’s face. Then he leaned in to kiss Aziraphale back, not caring about the other dancers resuming around them, knowing that this secret pocket of the world would be safe, and for now, he could breathe, and let the tide sweep them away.


End file.
